The Food of Love
by Navy Babe
Summary: A collection of unrelated one-shots inspired by songs, all filled with Sherlolly goodness.
1. Chapter 1

Notes: This particular fic was inspired by the song "Fantasy Man" by The Swell Season, which was suggested to me by Lono. It could be seen as taking place in the same 'verse as my fic "Contact" but it is definitely not necessary to read that to understand this. As stated in the summary, each chapter will be unrelated but they'll all be filled with Sherlolly goodness. If you have any suggestions for songs, please leave them in a review! Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: The characters of Sherlock do not belong to me, unfortunately. The song "Fantasy Man" doesn't either.

* * *

Molly sighed as she pulled her i-pod out of her jacket and scrolled through the songs. She found the song she had been looking for and closed her eyes briefly as the soft melody started. She leaned her head against the window as train carried her on her way out to Cardiff.

She'd been doing this for two years now, getting texts at all hours and then rushing about so she could meet a familiar black car outside of wherever she was. For some reason, Sherlock would always inform Mycroft that he needed her and then Mycroft would text her a time and a destination. Occasionally he would also text her a length of time, if she would need to take off of work for any reason. Usually she was just providing Sherlock with some information and they would maybe go out for a meal, but sometimes he required medical attention and he usually refused the doctors that Mycroft had offered to provide, insisting only on her care.

She tried not to read too much into it.

Molly tapped her fingers in time to the gentle song playing in her ears. "_And if everything is measured by the hole it leaves behind, then this mountain has been leveled and there's no more diamonds in the mine_."

She used to think that it was sort of romantic, rushing off at all hours to assist Sherlock because he needed her. But she didn't feel that way anymore. She was tired, tired of the secrets and the shadows that lurked in Sherlock's eyes. She knew that he was tired of it too. But she kept on answering her texts and getting on the trains because she knew that Sherlock was ten thousand times more fed-up with his clandestine life and he just wanted to return home. She knew that sometimes, seeing her was the only thing that kept him going, even if he would never admit it.

She still loved him. Not in the way she had before, keeping him on a pedestal and untouchable. She thought she had known Sherlock Holmes before, but she had only known a part of him. Seeing him for the past two years, stripped and bare of all his trappings that made him so utterly _Sherlock_, she'd gotten to know the man that he was. She loved a man, faults and all, instead of an idea. Her heart didn't skip a beat when she saw him anymore, but she felt warm and happy when she saw his face, hidden beneath whatever disguise he had been donning. If anything, this whole situation had only increased her love for him, made it more real, more palpable than it had ever been before.

They were sort of stuck together, she and Sherlock. Everyone else had moved on. They had no reason not to. For all they knew, Sherlock Holmes was dead. John had met Mary about six months ago and Molly noticed that the light had returned to his eyes. Greg had finally been reinstated to full-time duty after all of the findings of the cases that Sherlock had assisted on had proved to still be valid. Mrs. Hudson hadn't rented out 221b, but that was only because Mycroft was still paying the rent for the place. She did have a new tenant in the newly renovated 221c, though…Molly's lease had been up and it felt right somehow. Sherlock appreciated it too, being able to visit his old stomping grounds on the rare occasions that he made it into London.

They were stuck in this odd sort of limbo, while the world moved past them. It didn't bother Molly as much as it should have, because at least they were stuck in it together. The train started to slow down and she gathered her things, wondering idly what Sherlock's disguise would look like this time. Usually when he was in the UK he was a bit more thorough in his disguises; when he was on the continent usually a bit of hair dye and new clothes would suffice.

She stepped off the train and spotted him almost immediately. The first few times they'd met like this, it'd taken her a while to see through his disguises. But now she could pick him out anywhere. Plus, there weren't many people on the platform that weren't waiting to board the train. She smiled softly as she turned up her collar against the wind and headed over to him. He was blonde now and his hair was incredibly short. It wasn't her favorite look, but it wasn't bad. He wore a nice pair of jeans and a gray shirt, with a leather jacket and a green scarf. He'd taken a bit of care in using some contouring shadows on his face and he had popped in a pair of brown contacts.

He stood up and embraced her briefly when she reached him, before grabbing her small bag from her and taking her hand, leading her down the platform to the main station. They caught a cab and Molly looked mildly shocked when Sherlock gave the cabbie an address to a hotel in the city center. He then proceeded to make a big fuss about how much he had missed her and how he wasn't going to let her out of the room all weekend. Molly flushed as Sherlock leaned in to her, practically wrapping himself around her, and began whispering all his deductions about the cabbie. "I always pay attention to cabbies now," he said as he finished his observations. Molly giggled.

He didn't move away from her afterwards though, keeping up the pretense he had created of the long-separated lovers. Molly began to calm down and settled into her role, whispering into Sherlock's ear about the interesting cadavers that had come in since he'd last seen her. Obviously, the cabbie was none the wiser, which only made Molly find more amusement in the situation.

They arrived at the hotel and Sherlock handed the cabbie a few bills and winked lewdly at the man while gesturing towards Molly and thanking him for getting them to the hotel quickly. He grabbed her bag again and led her into the hotel, his hand heavy at the small of her back. He checked them in under his name of the moment (and she couldn't help but smile and squeeze his hand when he told the front desk that the room was for John Hudson). They went up to their room and Sherlock immediately began sweeping for bugs in the small room. Molly sat down on the bed before fully examining the man in front of her.

She'd noticed the basics of his appearance at the train station, but he'd put on a mask while they were in the cab and the lobby of the hotel. The minute they walked into the room, he dropped it and Molly was privy to the real Sherlock. He looked exhausted, almost beaten down. There were dark circles under his eyes and a few wrinkles on his brow that hadn't been there before. She kicked off her shoes and pushed herself back against the headboard and waited patiently for him. Sherlock had finished his bug sweep and had moved into the en suite, presumably to take out his contacts and scrub his face.

Sure enough, when he re-emerged his face was clean of any makeup and his piercing blue green eyes were on full display. He hovered in the door briefly before Molly rolled her eyes and patted the spot next to her. "C'mere," she entreated.

Sherlock nodded and kicked off his shoes before climbing onto the bed and cuddling against her, his arms around her waist and his head cradled on her shoulder. She ran one hand down his back and the other wound through his hair, stroking and petting softly. "You didn't really need me to bring this file to you, did you?"

He shook his head, confirming her statement. "I needed to see you, Molly. I needed this," he whispered, his hot breath sending a shiver down her spine. His arms tightened around her briefly, before he relaxed further into her. She knew that sometimes, despite his many statements about being above humanity, he missed being around people. People that liked him anyway – and there was no person in the world that liked him more than Molly Hooper. Being forced into solitude like this had affected him more than he had guessed it would and it left him aching for this physical connection sometimes. The first time it happened had been about a year ago and Molly had been startled when, during one of their dinners out after an information drop, he had swept her up in an embrace so intense she could hardly breathe.

She nodded and barely brushed her lips against the top of Sherlock's head. "Mycroft booked me on a train back to London tomorrow afternoon. Can you stay with me until I have to go back?"

Sherlock nodded silently, his body relaxing as Molly eased them down onto the bed. She could recognize the signs of Sherlock's body shutting down now. He'd sleep for a few hours and be much better off when he woke back up. She didn't bother with trying to get him under the covers; it was practically a lost cause at this point, with Sherlock basically being dead to the world in her arms. She felt her own eyes start to close and she pressed one last kiss to the top of Sherlock's head before sleep claimed her as well.


	2. Chapter 2

Notes: Thank you all so much for your awesome reactions to this story! This particular chapter was inspired by the song "All Your Life" by a country group called The Band Perry - maybe not everyone's cup of tea, but I really enjoy them. And the song just reminded me so much of Molly! Also, I'd recommend looking up the lyrics/listening to the song so you know what all of Sherlock's snarky comments are about.

Like I mentioned last chapter, if you have any songs that really scream Sherlolly to you, I'd love to hear them. Hope that you enjoy!

* * *

Molly smiled as her favorite song came on as she weighed Mr. Todd's liver. Her cousin Lizzie, from America, had introduced her to The Band Perry and Molly had absolutely fallen in love with their music – especially some of the songs on their first album. This one in particular seemed to strike a chord with her.

"I just wanna be the only girl you love all your life," she sang softly to herself, obviously picturing a certain insufferable consulting detective. It was an overly romantic song, as most were, and she knew that even if Sherlock ever noticed her, their relationship would never conform to any sort of traditional ideal. She started to stitch up Mr. Todd and continued to sing under her breath. "You could be the centerpiece of my obsession, if you would notice me at all!"

She laughed softly to herself as she turned to grab an instrument from a table and started as Sherlock and John stared at her from the entrance of the morgue. "Oh! Hi! I didn't hear you guys come in!" she squeaked, immediately reddening.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed and he tilted his head slightly. "The song you're listening to is ridiculous. It's not as if any romantic partner would be capable of any of the things mentioned in the lyrics." John sighed and gave his friend a clear "look," expressing disapproval at Sherlock's words.

Molly bit her lip and looked down. "I know, Sherlock. It's just…it's just a song. It's silly." She sighed heavily and put on a weak smile, looking up at the two men again. "Let me just finish closing up Mr. Todd and then I can go get you guys some coffee. Go ahead and head up to the lab. I'll meet you there."

Sherlock nodded and turned on his heel without a word. John hurried after him, sparing another glance at poor Molly, who looked positively miserable.

The two men entered the lab upstairs and Sherlock immediately began settling in, while John crossed his arms and looked at him disapprovingly. Sherlock set down his samples and sighed, looking over to his friend. "What? Obviously you're upset with me. What not-good thing have I done this time?"

"Just once, Sherlock, could you try to be nice to Molly? She's gone through hell for you and you're still such a prick to her."

The other man looked genuinely confused. He usually was when it came to Molly Hooper. "I don't understand. I commented on her musical selection but that in no way was a slight towards Molly. The song was ridiculous."

John heaved a long-suffering sigh and ran his hand over his face. "Women tend to connect emotionally to their music, Sherlock. You learn a lot about a woman from her favorite song. And guessing from what we heard of that song that Molly was listening to, she probably likes it because she relates the song to the feelings she has for you."

Sherlock cocked his head to the side, his forehead wrinkling. "Molly wishes for me to gather fireflies for her when electricity is a much more efficient form of lighting?"

"Oh Jesus…never mind, Sherlock. I'm just saying that you probably hurt Molly's feelings when you insulted the song, ok?" John said, sitting down at a table across from Sherlock, shaking his head. His best friend might be a genius but his emotional I.Q. was equal to that of maybe a five year old.

The detective looked as if he was about to ask John another question, but just then Molly walked in with two cups of coffee and his mouth snapped shut. "Thank you, Molly," he said, somewhat sincerely as Molly handed him the cup.

She just nodded and headed over to John, setting his cup in front of him. "Sorry about him, Molly," he murmured to her softly, resting his hand on her arm.

Shrugging, she gave him a small grin. "It's fine, John. You don't need to apologize for him. He doesn't even realize…it's fine." Glancing over at Sherlock, she sighed slightly, before straightening up. "I have a few things to finish up in my office, but then I'll be able to help you, ok, Sherlock?" He grunted in reply and Molly and John shared a suffering look before Molly giggled slightly and walked out.

* * *

John came in from the shops, not bothering to ask Sherlock for help, when he heard something strange. There was something distinctively…twangy coming from the flat. He managed to get the door open and found Sherlock lounging on the couch in his dressing gown and ratty pajamas, with a laptop on his chest. "What're you doing?" John asked, grabbing the bag he had to abandon for the door and heading to the kitchen.

"Research," Sherlock replied lazily as the song started over.

John shrugged and put away the shopping before coming out and sitting down in his armchair. Something about the song sounded familiar. "Wait a minute, isn't this the song that Molly was listening to in the morgue the other day?"

"Yes," he said immediately, sighing and then hitting the pause button on the computer. He set it down on the floor and swung his feet down, his elbows on his knees and his gaze turned to John seriously. "You said that Molly probably emotionally connects to this song, yes?" John just nodded, smiling slightly as he realized where this was going. "So you are saying that Molly wants me to perform impossible tasks for her to show my affection?"

John let out a sharp bark of laughter and shook his head, ignoring Sherlock's absolutely poisonous look. "No, not quite. Wait, are you saying you have affection for her?"

"Don't ask stupid questions, John. So what does this song express then?"

Sighing, John rolled his eyes and held out his hands for the laptop. "Let me see, pull up the lyrics." Sherlock hoisted up the laptop and quickly pulled up the lyrics page he had been looking at and got up to hand the computer over. He hopped into his armchair, hugging his knees to his chest as John perused the lyrics.

"She just wants you to notice her, Sherlock," he said after a few minutes. For being a genius, Sherlock was an enormous idiot. It was literally spelled out in the lyrics.

"I do notice Molly," he retorted, almost sounding offended.

"In a romantic way, idiot. That's the point. It's not that she wants you to do ridiculous and impossible things for her, she wants you to do something romantic for her, something that shows her that you're interested in her romantically." He tried to hand back the computer, but Sherlock had his fingers steepled under his chin and was staring intently at the wall. Sighing, John set the computer down on the floor. "Are you interested in Molly romantically?"

"What did I say about stupid questions, John?" He fired back immediately, not moving from his pose.

"Thought you said that girlfriends weren't your area?" John inquired, his eyebrow raised in amusement.

Sherlock finally broke his pose, his legs untangling and his feet landing on the floor. "They aren't. But Molly Hooper apparently is. She is…different, John," he said, his tone just a touch softer than it normally was.

John's eyes widened. "You're…you're actually contemplating…starting something? With Molly Hooper?"

"I wouldn't have listened to this god-forsaken song on repeat for 43 minutes straight if I weren't contemplating something with Molly Hooper. Honestly, John!" Sherlock growled in frustration and flung himself back against his chair. It took every fiber in John's body to not start laughing at his best friend. "You have more experience in this area. What should I do?"

"Wait, I'm sorry, can you repeat that, Sherlock?" John asked cheekily, a smug smile on his face as Sherlock glowered at him.

"I do not repeat myself, Dr. Watson; you should know that by now. Are you going to assist me or not?"

"Just go talk to her, Sherlock. For God's sake – the woman has been in love with you for years. You're going to have to convince her that you're genuinely interested in her. Be nice, bring her flowers apologize. It's pretty simple," John said and Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him.

"Fine," he bit out, jumping up from his chair and stalking towards his room.

* * *

The morgue was silent as Sherlock strode in, but he knew that Molly was there. He cleared his throat and she looked up from the paperwork that she was working on at her desk. She jumped up and blushed slightly, as she usually did as she greeted him. "Sherlock! Hi! Wasn't expecting to see you today. What do you need?"

He shifted uncomfortably as he approached her. "I wanted to apologize for mocking your choice of song. John informed me that people, women in particular, tend to emotionally connect to songs and that by insulting the song I was indirectly insulting you. It was not my intention."

Molly's eyes widened as he continued to move towards her, until he was standing only about two feet away. "I listened to the song. I will not do any of the ridiculous things mentioned, but John explained that that's not really the point. I cannot guarantee that this sentiment will last for the rest of our lives, but I wanted you inform you that I do feel more…affection for you than before. A different sort of affection than what I feel for John or Lestrade. Definitely different from the sort I feel for Mrs. Hudson." His eyes roved over her and settled on her face, softening slightly. "But I do feel affection for you, Molly Hooper. And I would like to…engage in a romantic relationship, if it's acceptable to you."

Molly's mouth was gaping unattractively, but she couldn't seem to close it. Sherlock didn't seem bothered by it though and started slightly, bringing his hands out from behind his back and shoving the bouquet he held at her. "John suggested I buy you flowers. He said that you would appreciate the sentiment."

Her fingers curled around the stems of the flowers and slowly took them from his hold, managing to close her mouth as well. "Th-th-thank you, Sherlock," she said slowly, as if her brain was taking the time to process what he'd just said. "You want…to date me?"

Sherlock nodded shortly and then gave her a soft smile. "I was thinking dinner tonight, if you were free. Which you are."

Molly giggled and briefly buried her head in the flowers, inhaling their scent happily. She looked up at him, a huge smile on her face that made her eyes sparkle. "Pick me up at my flat around 7?"

"Acceptable. Dress casually." He cocked his head to the side, studying her. "Wear your hair down." Molly giggled slightly and Sherlock narrowed his eyes for a moment before smirking. "If you'd like," he added slyly.

She simply nodded and set her flowers down on her desk, going up onto her tiptoes and lightly kissing Sherlock on the cheek. "Sounds good. See you then, Sherlock."

Sherlock smiled down at her as she pulled away. "I'm looking forward to it, Molly," he threw over his shoulder as he walked out of the morgue, leaving an ecstatic Molly Hooper in his wake.


	3. Chapter 3

Notes: This one is a bit more angsty than the last chapter, but I still like it and I hope you do too! It's based on the song "Nicest Thing" by Kate Nash and it's basically my favorite Molly song ever.

Disclaimer: Song doesn't belong to me and the characters don't either. Sad day.

* * *

Molly sighed as she cleaned her dishes from another meal for one at home. She knew that dating Sherlock Holmes would be a challenge – she'd known him for six years before they started a relationship, she was no stranger to the fact that merely being friends with the man was no walk in the park. But he'd run out of her flat the other night in the middle of dinner and had yet to contact her at all, even if it was just to let her know that he was ok. She'd seen the bruises that he'd sometimes come in with and she couldn't help but remember the time that she had to rush to A&E to take him home after he sustained a concussion, a broken arm, and a few bruised ribs. John had been in even worse shape and had been forced to stay in hospital for the night. His job was dangerous; hell, just being Sherlock was dangerous, considering how many people wanted to punch the consulting detective in the face after meeting him.

She didn't expect him to be texting her every minute. But one, just one, to let her know he was safe would be appreciated. And maybe one to apologize for running out on her in the middle of a date. But even that wasn't a huge concern for her.

She just felt like she was a convenience sometimes. She was a warm body, a source of food, a provider of experiment subjects, but she wasn't sure if she was Sherlock's girlfriend or significant other or whatever term he would deem not completely revolting. She could normally keep her feelings of doubt at bay but when he just ran out on her in favor of a case…she knew that she wouldn't ever come first in Sherlock's life. But the fact that she had no clue where she actually ranked started to fester in her mind like an infected wound.

Her thoughts drifted as she continued to wash up and then moved on to cleaning the kitchen, figuring that there wasn't anything better to be done. She had hooked up her i-pod while she cooked and it had continued to play through her meal and now through the clean-up. One of her favorite songs came on and Molly smiled, remembering when it was her "Sherlock Anthem."

"All I know is that you're so nice. You're the nicest thing I've seen," she sang softly, her hips swaying to the beat of the song as she moved around her small kitchen. She had finally stopped questioning why Sherlock was in a relationship with her, she knew that he at least had affection for her. But this song made her wonder if he could ever love her the way that she loved him. He had all these little things cataloged about her, but he had that about everyone. He didn't assign any sentiment to it.

Sherlock Holmes didn't do sentiment. But, for the first five and a half years that she knew him, he didn't do romantic relationships either. Maybe… She sighed, moving on to scrubbing down her counters as she continued to sing under her breath. "I wish you had a favorite beauty spot that you loved secretly, cuz it was on a hidden bit that nobody else could see. Basically, I wished that you loved me."

She continued to absently tidy up the kitchen until the song ended and then she sighed heavily and turned, leaning back against the counter. She nearly had a heart attack when she turned around and saw Sherlock standing there, intently focused on his phone. "Jesus, Sherlock!" she gasped, clutching her chest. "You could try to make a little more noise when you come in so you don't scare me to death!"

He looked up slowly and regarded her seriously, not even cracking a smile. "Apologies, Molly." Looking down to his phone's screen again, he held it up slightly. "Is this how you feel?"

Molly tried to laugh it off, brushing past Sherlock and going into her living room to sit down on the couch. "No, of course not, Sherlock. I just…it's a song I like. Just a song."

He sat down beside her, studying the words intently again. "Molly, remember who you are involved with please. I can spot a lie a mile away, especially on you." He then looked up, pinning her to her spot with nothing more than his gaze. "I suppose you could say that your smile is my favorite kind of smile; I do find myself trying to do things to get it to appear. I would not say that the way you dress is my favorite style, but it is your style and therefore I am fond of it. Especially that cherry jumper of yours. You do often baffle me, Molly Hooper, which is a feat that not many can claim. I do want to figure you out, all the time."

"When we first met on September the 6th, 2007, you seemed nervous, probably because it was your first day and you seemed very flustered, most likely because you were attracted to me. You stuttered and couldn't stop looking at me and you blushed the entire time I was there." Molly blinked back her tears as she simply sat and watched him speak, realizing that he was going through the different things that the song listed off as things that Kate Nash wished the object of her affection would notice and remember about her.

"My favorite beauty spot on your body is the one right here," he murmured, scooting closer to her and tracing a spot high on her thigh. "I don't usually assign such value to things such as a darkly pigmented patch of skin, but I am oddly fond of it. You've probably noticed that I kiss it rather often while we're engaged in intimate activities. I know exactly how you take your coffee and your tea. I can often read your mood and will adjust your sugar intake for either beverage depending on it. You like less sugar on your bad days, which is apparently unusual."

His other hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumbs brushing over her skin. "I do not often sleep or eat, but I have found that you are on my mind at the strangest of times. And I do feel that if you were to ever…reject me, Molly, that my heart…would indeed fracture."

"Oh Sherlock," she whispered, throwing her arms around Sherlock's neck and dragging him close for a kiss. Sighing happily against his mouth, she grabbed the lapels of his suit and shifted so that she was nearly draped across his lap.

They broke apart and Sherlock rested his forehead against Molly's. "I suppose, according to your song that's just a song, I do love you, Molly. I thought…I thought that went without saying. I wouldn't have embarked on this relationship with you if I didn't."

Molly let out a sharp bark of laughter and shook her head, briefly kissing Sherlock. "I love you too, Sherlock."

He pulled away slightly, enough to study her facial features. "I know you do," he said matter-of-factly. "That's why I thought the words didn't have to be said. I thought we were both aware of the other's feelings."

Molly couldn't figure out how to respond so she just laughed and shook her head again, resting her head on Sherlock's shoulder. He brushed his lips against her temple and stroked his hands down her back. "Molly…I am not experienced in romantic relationships. I know you know that. I will need guidance to fulfill your needs sometimes." He tilted her chin up so that she met his gaze full on. "I want to make you happy, Molly Hooper. I do not often care about other's contentment, but I find myself greatly invested in yours. And when I do something not-good, you have to tell me, Molly. Promise me you'll tell me." He sounded so fragile, so not-Sherlock in that moment, that she couldn't help the surge of love that suddenly raced through her being.

"I'll tell you, Sherlock. I promise." She beamed up at him, brushing a soft kiss against his lips. "You need to tell me too, ok? Whatever you need…you know I can't refuse you anything." Her fingers brushed against the soft pink skin of his lips and then traced along his cheekbones.

"You're the nicest thing I've ever seen, Molly Hooper," he whispered, before leaning in for another kiss.


	4. Chapter 4

Notes: Prepare for the wedding day fluff! One of my wishes for series 3 is that Mary and Molly are friends, so this chapter was fun to write. :) This chapter was inspired by "The Scientist" by Coldplay. Thanks so much for all your kind words and song recommendations!

* * *

Molly smiled at herself in the mirror as Mary fixed her veil. "There you are, babes! You look gorgeous; Sherlock's going to be speechless when he sees you – which we will all be thankful for!" Mary teased her as Molly blushed.

"Oh hush, Mary Watson. He was a perfect gentleman at your wedding and you know it! I remember, I was there," Molly said, rolling her eyes and then smiling at her best friend as she turned away from the mirror and faced her.

"That was only because John was still halfway livid with him. Sherlock occasionally has enough sense in his head to know when to shut up. But he still outed my cousin Rory to the entire family at the reception," Mary replied, laughing.

"Yeah, but at least now Rory is happy in Canada with his husband," Molly giggled, leaning into Mary conspiratorially. Mary gasped suddenly and put a hand over her swollen abdomen. "Baby giving you trouble?" Molly asked, eyebrows knitted in concern.

"Nah, just a bit of kicking. She's excited for her Auntie Molly's wedding!" Mary cooed, rubbing over where the blue silk of her dress was flowing out over her belly. The blonde cocked her head to the side, studying Molly carefully. "Have you and Sherlock talked kids?"

Molly tore her eyes away from her friend's belly and shrugged, biting her lip slightly. "Actually we have, believe it or not. I wasn't sure how he'd feel about them, but he actually said that he wasn't totally opposed to the idea. Said that it would be an interesting experiment to combine our genetic material and he supposed he should pass the Holmes genes on to the next generation." She giggled as Mary rolled her eyes.

"He would say that. Prat." For all that Mary teased Sherlock, she genuinely liked the man that dragged her own husband out of the house at all hours to run around London. Molly smiled at her friend as she absently smoothed her hands over the front of her dress. "You nervous, Molls?" Mary inquired softly, grabbing her hand.

Molly smiled serenely. "Actually, I'm not. Not much, anyway. I wonder how Sherlock's faring?"

At that Mary snorted and grabbed her phone off the table nearby. "I didn't want to panic you or anything, but John sent me this about fifteen minutes ago," she said, turning the screen to face Molly. The bride couldn't hold in her laughter at the picture on the screen, of Greg Lestrade apparently wrestling something away from the groom. Greg's hand was covering Sherlock's face and pushing him away, while holding something out of Sherlock's reach. It appeared to be a box of nicotine patches. Molly imagined he already had a few lining his arm.

"About what I expected," Molly managed to get out between giggles as Mary laughed with her and placed the phone back on the table. "It's all right. I know he loves me. He's just a bit high strung."

"You have a gift for understatement, babes," Mary replied wryly. Molly's eyes narrowed slightly at her best friend and she gnawed at her lower lip briefly. The other woman grinned like a Cheshire cat and quirked her eyebrow. "I'm not going to tell you."

Molly's calm demeanor suddenly fractured. "Mary! Please! Just give me a hint! Do you know how nerve-wracking it is to have _Sherlock_ pick out the song for our first dance without running it past me at all?" she begged, grabbing her friend's arm. Mary laughed and shook her head, using Molly's grip to pull her towards the door.

"Nope, almost-Mrs. Holmes! Just trust me, ok? He spent ages looking for the perfect song and I gave him my seal of approval. John did too. He didn't mess up, I promise." They stopped in front of the door and Mary turned to fully face her friend. "Ready to go and promise to keep that giant child in line for the rest of your life?"

Molly rolled her eyes. "That's both the most depressing and most accurate way to phrase this marriage ever. At least I love the giant child with all my heart." The two women broke into giggles as they made their way out the door and into the chapel of the small church.

* * *

The ceremony had gone off without a hitch. Molly wasn't terribly concerned, but it was nice to have it done with and not have had Sherlock run out, either in a panic or distracted by a case. Molly hadn't been able to stop smiling since she saw Sherlock at the end of the aisle and even the usually surly consulting detective seemed to be in high spirits. The reception was at the Holmes' summer house out in the country, which Mycroft had hired people to decorate beautifully. They had just finished dinner and Molly and Sherlock (the latter somewhat reluctantly) were mingling with their guests, when the D.J. announced that it was time for the newlyweds to head to the dance floor for their first dance.

Molly shot her husband – Sherlock Holmes was her _husband_ – a slightly nervous look and Sherlock chuckled as he led her to the dance floor. "Molly, you don't honestly think that Mary would let me embarrass you, do you? I have picked a perfectly adequate song for our first dance as husband and wife."

Molly gave him a sly grin and shook her head as he took her into his arms and the song started playing. He was watching her carefully as the first few notes filtered out through the speakers. Her eyes lit up when she recognized the song and she beamed up at Sherlock. "You picked 'The Scientist?' Pretty accurate, I suppose." She stretched, her heels making her height a little closer to his, kissing him gently. "It's perfect, Sherlock."

He huffed slightly as he pulled her closer and she nestled against him happily. "I would hope so. I didn't take any cases for a week and focused solely on finding the perfect song for our first dance."

She pulled back slightly, just enough to lock eyes with him. "Seriously? You focused on nothing but finding a song for a week?"

He shrugged before he answered. "Figuring out the intricacies of the emotions involved in all the songs made the task a bit more challenging. Plus, I had to narrow down the choices depending on genre and then by band."

Molly beamed at him, pulling him down for another kiss. She kept it brief, knowing that public affection made Sherlock uncomfortable, despite how at ease he seemed now. "So far you're doing a pretty good job of being a husband, Sherlock."

"Of course I am," he sniffed, his nose in the air. "I am Sherlock Holmes. I excel at anything I set my mind to."

"Except maybe humility," she teased.

"Useless," he retorted, his eyes gleaming in mirth. She giggled and snuggled up against his chest, trusting him to lead her around the dance floor.


End file.
